this dangerous game of hide and seek
by hel lokidottir
Summary: "You're strange." "Should I change then?" "... No, no. I found that i rather like your strangeness, so please don't, or else, I'll kick your ass." "Well, if that's what Boss says, then I won't." / In which, Newt finds himself pretending to be an amateur photojournalist to get information on the Right Arm's whereabouts, and Sonya really just wants it all to end. sonyanewt (semi-au)
1. Chapter 1

**a/n:** long author's note down.

—

i. sonya

—

She tastes blood and gunpowder on her tongue, but it does little to make her recoil in disgust. It's not the first time she's swallowed things like those, and it is not the most revolting thing she's ever tasted either. She could count several things far worse than blood and dried explosives that found its way into her mouth, but that would have to wait for a later time.

The pistol on her hand is cold and heavy — and loaded. She makes sure the man in front of her knows it too. She cocks it, and angles it to point between his eyes.

"Tell, Ava," she mutters lowly, her voice broken in all sorts of places due to the lack of usage. She is not used to speaking in situations such as these — they are called stealth missions for a reason — but the King had sent her as a messenger this time.

Her target narrows his eyes at her, eyes swollen and teeth bleeding. His determination not to show his fear amuses her.

She lowers the gun. Right hand. Fires. "Wicked will—"

Cocks it. Left shoulder. Fires. "— **never** be—"

Cocks it. Left thigh. Fires. "—good."

There's no howl from her victim. Just a silent scream as he collapses to the ground that doesn't even last long. She knows she should be disappointed from the absence of his voiced suffering, or at least be amazed at his level resilience, but she doesn't. There's something off about his quietness, and it makes her take an instinctive step back when it is suddenly disturbed by his laughter.

 _ **"When the cat purrs, the mouse shall run."**_

She has her ears pricked for any kind of danger, her shoulders tense. Years of training had warned her to stay clear of suspicious action — a complete opposite of a wanted result would always hint at an enemy's trump card, or possibly, a play they had accidentally overlooked. A hidden gunman, maybe, or a to-be activated trap somewhere around here, or even an ambush.

The latter didn't sit well with her, not like the other two which she can easily evade and escape from, although not unscathed. An ambush, on the other hand, means having to fight a mass of armed men and women, an act that needs more than just her agility, wit and the temporary rush of adrenaline.

She braces for the worst.

"Y-You're —" he spits, before looking at her. It reminds her of a wounded hyena fending for itself from a prowling lioness she had watched from a documentary once. "I remember you! You're his bitch, ain't ya?"

Oh.

 _Oh._

"You're that brat's bitch, and, you really d—"

This time, when she pulls the trigger and more gunpowder and ash fills her mouth, he screams.

What a beautiful melody it is.

—

 **It's done.**

[Is he dead?]

 **No.**

 **Message has been delivered.**

[Are there any information you were able to find?]

 **Mary is right. They're progressing in a shocking speed.**

[Anymore?]

 **That's all.**

—

She shuts her phone off, and looks at her hands.

She'll tell them, she decides. She'll tell them about the battered bodies of children she had seen locked in a cold room like they were nothing more than a piece of meat. She'll tell them about the gruesome experiments WCKD had done in that unit and the catastrophic results it could cause them.

What she will not tell them is that her target, a dark haired man her age with a sickening look in his eyes and a snarling smile on his lips, knew her from a long forgotten past.

And.

...

She's still debating whether or not she should tell them about the bloody hole in her target's dick. It'd be quite amusing to see Harriet's incredulity once she hears this, but she is not really in the mood for another one of Vince's lecture on her brutish actions and her lack of feminine classiness or whatever.

(Sometimes, she wonders at his rather odd characteristics until she remembers the old photos hung about in his office. She shakes the haunted faces of a little girl with pigtails, lilac dresses, ragdolls — and missing eyeballs, dark indigo tears, and purple crawling skin.

She gulps, and mentally sweeps Vince's daughter out of her mind, and continues debating.)

After a minute's thought, she finds herself settling to keep it a secret.

She's still not ready to be lectured.

—

 **a/n:** so if you're wondering what the hell this story is supposed to be, I am not certain. ive only been obsessed with the fandom for a couple of months, and ive only watched the movies and haven't read any of the books yet, so a lot of things about this story is iffy and the characters would probably out of character at times.

this is a semi-au; semi because it still has WCKD and cranks and flares and right arm and mazes and shit, and an au because the world has not completely succumbed to the scorch of the sun or something. id give more info about it on the next couple of chapters, since im still weighing the possible whatnots I'm going to put. i don't like changing a lot of what happened in the movies, although it _is_ technically supposed to be an au, so many decisions to carefully make.

also, this is a sonya and newt — better known as their shipname, sonewt — because why not? ive been in love with katherine mcnamara for a long time now, and hearing that she plays sonya in scorch trials was actually the real reason why I started watching the two movies. was bummed that her role is actually just so small (her screentime is basically just five minutes) but then I was distracted by how handsome newt was (don't tell me you guys haven't thought of it too). anyways, ive been reading a lot of fanfics, stumbled upon the very few sonewt ones and that was what convinced me to ship them both. so there ya go, more long author's note probably for the rest of this fic.

feedback is appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

—

ii. newt

—

He should have known Thomas won't let it go. He should have known that he would look through old files and news clips and articles just so he could have more evidence to convince him. He should've known and expected that.

"And, I am once again repeating, alright, that there is no way that the Gallade Ink is connected with the Gladers and the Right Arm," he shakes his head.

"But, I'm telling you!" Thomas insists, flipping through a white clearbook full of the information he had determinedly sought the night before. "Look, here." He points at an article from a couple of months ago — _Fire Kills Hundred Thirty People._ "Remember this?"

He rolls his eyes. "Like I could forget. That had been the strongest fire to ever occur in the past two years. Or, so the recorded news says."

"Exactly," Thomas continues. "And, remember how no one can identify the bodies because they were so scorched and disfigured? Well, look at this passage of Gallade Ink's report, _'all victims are of various race and age'_. How could they have known when forensics couldn't? Also, here." Thomas scans the paragraph, a finger trailing over words until it stops in the middle. "It says, _'many of the casualties are civilians, but a number of retrieved WCKD uniforms say otherwise.'_ No one knew about the uniforms except us — and the Department — and, even then, we weren't sure."

He shrugs. "They could have just written it because they assumed they really were WCKD's, not knowing that they got it right. Media always had major faults, and lots of reporters make up information just to fill the space."

"That's just it, Newt. All of their stories, all of their blogs, newspapers, and articles — they're all true," Thomas says, flipping through the pages brimming with notes and papers. He has to admit, he's quite impressed with his friend's skill in collecting that much data in just a matter of hours. "The food poisoning incident; the terrorist attack; strange disappearances of orphans; shooting attacks, and so on. What's more is that every one of their headline stories, and sometimes others that aren't, give me this idea that they have a deep hatred for WCKD — that there's a huge grudge they hold against them."

"Not a lot people know about WCKD, Tommy, and I think that Gallade Ink is just letting people know what they're really doing," he pauses, before continuing in a softer tone. "And, don't we have a grudge against them too? Or are you siding with that blasted Department now?" He's teasing, really, but he can't stop the bitterness in his voice when he said that.

Thomas scoffs. "After what they've done? After putting us into that miserable maze? And, after Alby and Chuck? I'd rather kill myself than have to do anything with them."

"Okay, then. So, why the sudden interest in Gallade Ink? You've been rambling about them ever since the other day," he mutters, his voice still low. They've entered the main lobby, and, although he thinks it is unnecessary, Thomas had greatly expressed that they be careful of talking about WCKD in the presence of others.

("I've got a feeling about this place," Thomas once said a month ago. He still doesn't understand him, but, oh well, it doesn't hurt to heed his friend's warning.)

"I," Thomas starts, closing the clearbook and tucking it underneath his arm. It made a sound, a short creak, but it made them freeze nevertheless. When it seems that no one had heard, they relaxed. "I don't know exactly, but ... They seem to know something. I just know they do."

He stops midwalk, before, in a calm and steady voice, letting loose his annoyance, "Is this another one of those 'gut-feelings' you have, Tommy?" At the embarrassed look on his friend's face, he curls his hands into fists. "I thought so."

"Newt ..." he hears Thomas say, a pleading on his voice. He glares.

"Shut it, Thomas."

—

 **a/n:** so, this is kinda set when they've escaped the maze, and Janson had 'rescued' them. unlike, in the book or movie, theyre not just one compound, nor are they located in a ghost city. this is the rough description where:

the facility is inside the heart of one of the remaining cities in the North American continent. the city is still running and full of life, but a giant wall has been built surrounding it. kinda like that one city in the movie, world war z, but with a lot less celebration.

have a main building, where Janson and WCKD do their stuff. also an assembly hall is somewhere there. unlike in the original that he takes munies daily, here, he takes them weekly.

there is also a smaller building next to it, a compound for the munies. it's like an apartment, with a living room, a small kitchen, bedroom, the whole thing. still, they're staying in groups

they can go about and explore the city, and able to do stuff like normal-people. of course, there are rules where not to go, what not to do, and when you could go and when you should return.

i know it's confusing and all, but hold on there for a few more chapters. you'll soon understand.

feedback is appreciated


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